This is the story of my struggle with Bipolar Disorder type 1 and Borderline Personality Disorder. It's my raw acceptance of having mental illnesses but my refusal to let them take me down. It isn't nice, it isn't pretty, but it's my reality. I'm also an avid cyclist and can usually be found on two wheels.
-Gwyndolyn Vela

I tell myself this every day

Friday, June 28, 2013

I feel completely mad right now. I can't find my paints in order to escape this mood and I'm losing my mind because of it. I have been doing so well but today just hit a peak for me and I'm all but insane right now.

I want my paints.

I'm completely distressed over current evens in my life that I'm unwilling to talk about right now. I will in due time but right now I have to face a lot alone. I have come so far and learned so much but it only makes me capable- it doesn't make anything in my life better. Like I said before- I've woken up into a world I didn't want.

I have no escape- I want my paints.

My mind is racing 1000 miles a minute and I feel like something terrible is going to happen. I know nothing is going to happen but the chemicals in my brain don't. Sometimes I think it would be better to just be completely insane and unaware of it. I don't know- maybe it would. I can't imagine it being as bad as having two opposing sides of a war constantly battling it out inside of you. Logic and emotion forever at odds and I'm the only casualty.

My future right now feels hopeless and uncertain but I know it isn't. It's a cruel joke to be able to spend weeks feeling better and building a better life for myself and in moments my entire brain can re-write everything. It's awful. I've learned a lot of skills to cope with emotions and bipolar in general but when it's this extreme I only have one outlet.

I want my fucking paints.

I've searched everywhere and the more I look the more neurotic I become. I'm only writing this down as a way to record how completely erratic this disorder is. How completely erratic my mind is right now. Bipolar people- we have issues with racing thoughts. It gets us in trouble a lot. Mine are particularly fast, even for bipolar sufferers. It breeds anxiety, paranoia, and a world of other troubles. In short- it's no fun.

The only salvation I have right now is that the anger is gone- I haven't been angry in a while and I'm ok with that. I'm also able to keep to myself- that's something I haven't learned until recently. I would hide from the whole world but go looking for Johnny to give me something he couldn't. I've learned to keep all of my moods away from other people. I'm sure that will feel good later. Or not, I don't know. These moods always have a "forever" feeling to them. There is no "this too shall pass" no matter how much I say it or how much I know it to be true. The moods are all encompassing and quite literally feel like the end of the world each time.

I leave you with no point. No epic story. I just wanted to record how everything can go to shit for the smallest reason. I'm going to try to find my paints or go to sleep.

Monday, June 24, 2013

My biggest non-serious fear was that taking the meds would change who I am, turn me normal. I would replace my entire wardrobe with pastels and khakis.

They haven't but I have been evolving. My priorities have changed, what I'm wearing doesn't really matter as much. I still dress like me- dr martin knee high boots, black torn shorts, black tank tops but the difference is I don't care about all the shit I use to. I threw away my costume contacts, I gave away all my belts with chains and shit on them. I've retired my platform stompy boots. I still have all my cut up shirts and I still wear them. I gave away all my gaudy rings and claws. The massive collars and necklaces are gone.

I didn't get rid of these as some sort of initiation ritual or a rite of passage shenanigans. I've just moved into a different direction. I spend most of my time painting, drawing, or one of my crazy athletic hobbies.

I was afraid that I would change but now I understand evolution vs change. I'm in my bike gear most the time but I'm blasting through the streets listening to Sisters Of Mercy or Specimen (on a halloween colored bike). I still hang out in cemeteries but thanks to my psychosis being cleared up I don't feel the dead anymore. I paint dark images and am still drawn to those things. With the anxiety gone I can talk to everyone and anyone. I don't put up those barriers anymore in the form of too many accessories. All that stuff was very much a part of me and it wasn't hollow or some concept of trying too hard. That was what I was genuinely into and it was fun.

Now I'm evolving and the biggest lesson I've learned is that I can't limit myself. I can't look at anything and say "that's who I am." I can look at things and say "that's what I enjoy." The anxiety kept me latched onto things but the girl typing this right now is ready to experience the whole world.

I'm not worried about who I am anymore- I found her and she seems pretty cool.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

I've been back in my right mind for a week now. But it's been tough to wake up to such a massive wreckage that was caused by months of rapid cycling. I have fallen behind on my Etsy, I've fallen behind on my physical fitness, I've all but destroyed my relationship, and every other area in my life has been drastically effected. I thought it was tough going through all that but now I can see clearly and the road ahead of me is tougher.

I'm moving out of the house I currently share with my boyfriend. It's not forever as much as it is a good way to keep myself under control so we don't end up splitting for good. It still hurts but my want and need to get better and not drag him down with me is way stronger.

Because I've fallen so far behind in my Etsy I have to find employment in order to sustain myself for the couple of months I will be living by myself. That isn't that bad since I have been continuously employed since the age of 15. The only problem I face with that is I don't know anyone around here. I have a plan and will work on that in my own time, it's just something I didn't expect to have dropped in my lap the second I came around to being a functional adult. I was excited about going full speed ahead with my Etsy and I will still work on it but I will have to find a way to balance that, employment, therapy, managing my bipolar, getting to Richmond to see my kids, and trying to salvage my relationship. This could literally destroy me if I don't do it right.

So to deal with this I've been busting my ass on my Etsy, my commissions but for those fleeting moments of sadness (a lot of those lately since the person I love is all but gone from me emotionally), depression, anger, stress, guilt, or anything else that might drag me down I have created what I call "5 Minute Sanity Sketches" they are literally sketches I only give myself 5 minutes to draw in order to save my sanity. It's been helping me tremendously and has helped keep me focused instead of spending hours stuck in these emotions.

Friday, June 14, 2013

I've made a lot of progress; I can’t believe I've come this
far. I am battling against 30 years of a disorder I didn't know I had or didn't understand and I’m
only 7 months into recovery. I was diagnosed when I was 13 but it just seemed
too easy the way the Dr threw it at me. Stuck me on Prozac and I ended up
worse. They stuck me on Welbutrin and it got worse. They decided I was ADHD and
that was it. I went through years of therapy to deal with my past and Adderall seemed
to fix what ever the initial chemical deficiency was. I wasn't educated in the disorder- this was 17 years ago. The
science and understanding behind it has jumped light years ahead since then and
I’m benefiting from it this go around.

When I was re-diagnosed I was 27, it made sense but I
didn't do my research- I didn't take it serious outside of taking the meds and
thinking that was good enough. I was terribly wrong and that’s why I eventually
went off my meds- I literally didn't know any better. After 27 years of being
completely under the control of the disorder there was no way I was capable of
understanding the gravity of it all. I
could never have guessed how bad my case was and the parasite will literally try
to preserve itself. It doesn't want me to get healthy.

I've had a failed marriage and several failed long term
relationships. I didn't do anything directly affecting these to cause the
deterioration that inevitable came. I just thought I kept choosing the wrong
person. It happens- not everyone is meant for each other and despite how I
tried or how much effort I put into it they ultimately failed. It was the disorder but I didn't really have a super realistic investment in them anyway. It never
bothered me because I was able to keep head strong and move forward. It
happens.

When I started dating Randy I wasn't ready for what
eventually came out of that relationship. It drove me into a whirlwind of self destruction. I couldn't fix myself- I sure as shit couldn't take on his
problems. It became a terrible contribution to my decline in mental health. It’s
not his fault- he didn't know any better and I was impossible to deal with and
if anyone was unable to deal with me he would be it. As I come to understand
myself and the disorder I place less and less blame on him. There were some
pretty bad physical altercations between us- I ended up on the bad end of those
every time. He cheated on me and it was way more than I could have guessed or
dealt with. He’s a simple creature. I never thought he was stupid- he’s just
way more fragile than anyone knows and more than I could have guessed.

That relationship is in the past. The healthier I get the
more I realize we were just a bad combination. Both good people but driven
insane by each other’s issues. I've forgiven him a long time ago but he can’t
be a part of my life and not a part of my recovery. The disorder developed an
unhealthy emotional dependency with him. Staying with him long after it was obvious it would have been beneficial for us to part ways was a reflection of my inability to discern
healthy emotions from unhealthy ones. I don't pity myself- through all of
that I have something to help me identifying all the ways my disorder can manifest itself.
It was bad but it’s good for my recovery to understand why it happened and why things
went so wrong.

Bipolar people have a very little chance of maintaining a
long term relationship. I have faced this fact and I have had to take this on
head first.

I've found someone I want to be a part of my life- the healthy one
I’m creating. I’m finally figuring out who I am and where I want to go in life
and managing my disorder is key to possibly having any chance of a successful
life. A logical, artistic, and talented person. I would never have guessed
someone of Johnny’s caliber would have fought for me and stayed as strong as he
has. He was the sole reason I went back on meds, the reason I took Dorian’s
class, and the driving force behind my difficult but fast recovery.

I don’t have to sing his praise- it’s very obvious the
positive effect he’s had in my life and anyone who knows him or in someway
takes notice of him knows he’s a solid person with a good head on his
shoulders. When I fucked up my meds for the past 2+ months he was there for me.
It was tough and took a pretty hard toll on both of us. It’s terrifying to
watch someone you love be effected this drastically by something you can’t
control but try to so desperately. He went to Dr’s visits with me to get my meds
fixed- he would hold me while I cried not knowing why everything in my life
felt so awful. He held me when he found about my suicide attempt I had in February-
something I tried to hide from him. He felt terrible that this was something I
had to go through. He did his research to try and understand the disorder and
helped educate me. These things I could never have imagined anyone would be
capable or strong enough to help me through and stay by my side. His family has
been amazingly supportive and there for me when I would assume no one would be.
I have never felt more welcome anywhere as I have with his family. I can never repay them for what they gave me. I’m still amazed with these people and my love and
appreciation of them will never fade away.

I have had a very bad 2+ months after my meds were getting
fucked up. It sent me into rapid cycling and I became a complete emotional
basket case. I physically and emotionally isolated myself. I was too sick to
realize this. I was reading everything I could but I couldn't understand why
everything seemed so wrong. Some days I would be so manic that nothing mattered
but my irrational narcissistic needs. I was be so nasty to be around that I
could barely stand being around myself. We avoided each other at almost any
cost. I was so depressed at times I would explode into hour long fits of crying
and freaking out. I was literally losing my mind and he had to take the brunt
of it. He still stuck with me. He wanted to get me to the right Dr’s and make
sure I get on the right meds. I could never express how much I appreciated this
and I was incapable of showing my gratitude. I was under the complete control of the
imbalanced chemicals in my brain.

My paranoia exploded. There was nothing in my world that was
ok. Every little thing he did was some terrible act against me- my fucked up
mind had convinced me of this. There was no way he could interact with me
without triggering a nasty reaction in my brain. Every day I was filled with
more and more guilt. I knew things were wrong but my mind had convinced me it
was him. I had plenty of moments of clarity but they were fleeting and the
mania would start back up again. It had convinced me that he was the source of
all my problems.

It was far from true. He was the source of my success and
progress. I was too sick to see this.

The Dr gave me the wrong medication and I have to answer for it. Mania isn't fun- it comes with paranoia, psychosis, a
constant state of irritation, and it destroys lives. It destroys relationships.

It has destroyed mine.

I’m now off the meds that were fucking me up worse than
before I was medicated. I’m in therapy learning how to live a successful and
healthy life. I’m learning how to have successful interpersonal relationships.
I've done a complete 180 from the past couple months. I feel like myself and it’s
amazing. I understand the warning signs and have learned so much and am prepared
to move forward with my life.

Possibly a life without Johnny in it.

It took too much out of him. I don’t blame him but there is
nothing worse than coming into who I am, learning how to live a functional
life, having the ability to see a bright future, having a heart that is
overflowing with love and affection- and not having the one thing I was fighting
so hard for. I finally figured out how to open the door into a wonderful life and
it’s not what I wanted.

Nothing hurts as much as this does. I've fought so hard to
get here and when I finally start to see the finish line it a lot less
rewarding than I hoped. If I had gotten help a week earlier I wouldn't be where
I’m at. There would have to be a lot of repairs made but I wouldn't have walked
into a world without him by my side.

I have been unable to cope with this. I feel terrible that all his time, effort, sweat, and tears might have brought him nothing but stress and misery. There might be no pay off for him.I am back into my
healthy mind but I am unable to experience the love and affection I wanted so desperately.

I never took him for granted. I am someone who suffers from an emotional and behavioral disorder that can be crippling to those who love me.

He’s
been pushed so far from me that I don’t know if I could pull him back. It’s
impossible to discern the sickness from the woman he loved. It’s still my body,
mind, and actions that have affected him regardless if it's a sick person.

I am becoming of sound mind- I’m learning how to handle
myself, the disorder, and getting close attention to make sure my meds are
regulated and I’m not caught into another cycle like I had been stuck in. I’m
getting all the help I need but its heart wrenching.

I have stepped into a world that I am capable of handling
but lost what I wanted most.

Friday, June 7, 2013

Everyone is entitled to their opinion, even if it's my friends and family who are opposed to this, annoyed by it, or simply don't care. That's ok, spend your time being awesome- that's what I want to see and that's what I'm trying to do with my life.

This is my outlet. This is my story. This is my recovery. I'm going to my own personal hell and back and giving it to the world so my daughter won't have to and hopefully others all well.

My current condition makes almost all of my life out of my control. When I get help and get better there will be an evolution to this blog and my story. I'm getting all the bad out so I can show myself and other people the imperfections of dealing with emotional disorders and my eventual move up into a functional way of life

I'm not a unique snowflake- I'm one of millions of people with this disorder and I'm glad I'm not alone. My case is severe but nowhere near as bad as it gets and I'm grateful to not have it worse. But I empathize with everyone else and their struggle be it bipolar or not. Behavioral, psychological, and mental disorders are difficult at every level.

I cannot change people's view of me and nor would I if I could.

This statement is coming from a warped perspective and a need for self gratification and hopefully they got what they needed. When I'm successful and have accomplished everything I've set out to do and overcome my set backs I will dedicate all of that to these people- the ones who take the time out of their day and spend it on me in an effort to bring me down. There is NOTHING anyone can try to do that is worse than the struggle inside myself.

OP, most of the people reading it aren't from Facebook. This is bigger than you and myself. Oh, and if you think I'm doing this for attention then thank you for your time and the attention you're giving me.

I use painting as a coping mechanism and also a form of restraint. If I hole myself away in the basement with my brushes and paint so I can't act out against the people around me. It's hard. I drop to the floor a lot crying uncontrollably, I have a special brush I put in my mouth and bite down hard on whenever I feel the urge to explode, I pace around with my hands tightly gripping my hair or cradling my skull, I also collapse on the floor out of pure exhaustion from trying to control myself. It's a very sad and terrifying experience but I've managed to turn it around into something productive.

I will have to live with this disorder for the rest of my life. I will also paint for the rest of my life. I think that trade off makes it worth it.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

I went ahead and set up a Facebook page for this blog. I always have really random but funny thoughts I want to put up here but I don't want to over post and have all the important issues get lost under a million posts about funny shaped poops I find on the sidewalk. I also would like people to see that despite all of these struggles I have plenty of good moments. It will allow you to see the other side of me- the funny outgoing, up beat, silly, and positive person I really am.

Here is proof of the real me. The enjoyable, loving, and ridiculous person I am fighting to bring out daily.

I've woken up today in a massive depression. It's unbearable. It's a very lethargic decline in mental capability. I have to call in to get my lamictal (mood stabilizer) refilled and it took me over 2 hours to do so. Who the hell in my state DOESN'T want to call in their meds? Isn't that the whole reason I'm here fighting?

My stupid shit-ass brain. That's who.

The one thing I'm fighting for is also my biggest opposition.

I'm still sitting here in complete disbelief that this is my reality. Pretty girl, lots of dedication, pretty good genes, likes to workout, healthy, above average intelligence, funny, witty, adventurous, outgoing, empathetic, caring, artistic, lost of love and support, great smile, among other things. And I have a chemical imbalance so bad that I can't call in my meds. I have 1000 things going for me except my mental competence. I did though. I had to dig my teeth into my tongue until it bled to force myself to. Luckily their pharmacy has an automated refill line. Automated services are depression's/anxiety's best friend.

I made a step yesterday I should have made a long time ago- I got evaluated and set up with a proper therapy group and psychologist in order to get my meds straightened out. I didn't get to see a Dr but I got everything set up to see the proper set of medical professionals for future management of this mental bullshit. I knew this was what I should have been doing a couple months ago. I just seemed incapable despite my desperate need and desire to get better.

Self preservation- the parasite fights for it's own survival.

I went to a psychiatric emergency room on Tuesday. I'm not out of control as in danger to myself or others but I'm out of control in that my moods and thoughts haven't been right in a while. As of Monday I realized that but now I'm playing catch up again and realizing even more how very little I understand about myself and this disorder. Every question answered brings 100 more uncertainties. I'm sitting here in my head knowing everything is wrong but I really don't know what "right" is.

I thought I knew. I thought I knew what right was in my world but now I know even more that I can't label anything I do as right or appropriate because I literally have no idea what that means. I got out of control again because of my warped perception of what it "right." I needed much more help than I was receiving and giving myself.

I have been use to existing at such a high level of difficulty that I didn't realize a subdued version of bipolar existence was still incorrect. I identified that as a correct emotional state because everything seemed better to me. I was wrong. I cannot make these judgments. I have to realize that I cannot understand these concepts- I have no point of reference.

I cannot trust myself to call and get the meds I need. I cannot trust that same person to deem what is right and wrong. I have no true allies except an emotionless army of medical professionals.

That very realization makes me understand I'm not fooling myself anymore- I'm down but I'm still winning. I need something far removed from my daily life and completely detached from who I am emotionally. I need a completely uninvested point of view. I felt that yesterday. I felt I'm about to get what I need- all the help in the world. For the first time in a long time I didn't feel lonely.

This morning I don't feel good. I don't even feel human. But I can hold on to what I felt yesterday. It's a reminder that I'm doing right. I don't need to feel good right now- I need to feel motivated to keep moving. I can't trust any emotions I have currently- I might never be able to again and that's something I have to face. I don't know what "healthy" and "manageable" are going to entail and I have to accept that fact. I may not be able to ever have a successful long term relationship, I may never be able to have any close interpersonal relationships, I may never be able to do anything I currently think I want. I cannot trust my perception of life. Success might mean something I can't understand at this point. There is only one certainty in my emotionally volatile existence- I was to be successful. That's what I want but I have to have a team of professionals help me define what that means in my world.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

I'm barely into 6 months of recovering from a lifetime of severe bipolar.

It's been a lot of trial and error- countless hours of research, days watching videos and lectures, hours and hours of reading, a lot of confusion and some clarity.

My bipolar is different because I'm 80% mania, 10% depression, and 10% mixed moods. The severely manic spectrum isn't usually where people fall. They tend have manic episodes but generally tip the scale more toward the depression side. I don't. I get depressed, terrible bouts of crippling depression when they happen but I mostly stay manic which is strange. I talked about this to a degree in my other post Clean Cup, Clean Cup, Move Down, Move Down!

I realized I was mostly mania right before that post. I didn't have a fucking clue.

I haven't been able to get back to my psychologist back in Richmond so I went to a general practitioners office to get my ADHD meds and something to handle my mood swings when my period starts to hit. She asked me about all my meds and I told her I was taking St. John's Wort and she told me to go off of it immediately. But with that and my Lamictal I've been doing so great! I'm not taking that completely out of my regimen, what did she know? She's just a doctor......

She put me on Seraquil XR to help with my lady time mood swings. I researched it to see if St. John's Wort would interact with Seraquil. None of the lists had it on there so I figured I was in the clear.

The fist period I had since given the Seraquil I went off the St. John's Wort just in case- give me time to do my research. I did my research- it wasn't listed as something that interacted with my home herbal remedy. That period went over without any incident. Awesome.

I should have done my research properly.

So much little shit can contribute to an instantaneous decline in mental health. I haven't been right for a while but the worst part is I haven't noticed how bad I have been getting.

That's what scares me. I want a light like the oven has, whenever it's preheating there is a little red light that comes on, when it's done it turns off. I want a little light on my forehead that turns on whenever my chemicals are out of line.

Once again I knew something wasn't right and everything around me was falling apart despite my efforts. I also had the Gluten incident so that threw in another monkey wrench.

I have been losing my shit. Paranoid, full of anxiety, and a burden to those around me. I just thought it was period stuff and the Seroquil had stopped working. I knew things were bad but only at their most extreme. I'm learning all the warning signs and red flags but it's hard when you're on the path to a bout of depression or pure mania to realize it. This is normal for me. I've always thought this way..... I fell back into it. It happens slowly and the parasite latches onto things in my real life- I'm not just making up these emotions out of no where.

I've been having inappropriate emotional responses and I failed to realize it.

Seroquil directly effects my serotonin levels, so does the St. John's Wort. I've over loaded the serotonin in my nervous system. It's caused a lot of behavioral problems, set my bipolar into heavy rapid cycling, and as an added bonus there have been bad physical problems as well. Seroquil even looks like the word serotonin- obviously there's a fucking connection. Why brain? Why do you do this? This shit isn't funny.

St. John's Wort causes mania. Too much Serotonin causes mania. As a beast comprised mostly out of mania- this is a really really bad situation destined for failure and self destruction.

The symptoms that get me the most are confusion, headache, nausea/vomiting, and muscle twitching. I've had all of these and some of them pretty severe. I don't know why I didn't pick up on this. Like I've said before- I knew something was wrong but that was all the information I had. I'm never nauseous- ever. I have amazing balance and I workout a lot, I've never had bouts of nausea or needing to puke out of the blue. I've had the feeling to vomit a lot and I've thrown up twice out of nowhere. I've had mind splitting headaches almost daily. My heart rate monitor was giving me strange readings that weren't normal during my runs and I would be doing nothing and my legs would start to spasm like crazy.

The worst part has been the confusion. I have been terribly confused about everything lately. I've been telling johnny for weeks that I keep getting confused but when I'm telling him I'm already in a cesspool of emotional garbage. How can you discern what's real, what's symptoms of something else, and what's just the bipolar talking? I don't blame him for pushing me away. I was terribly confused about everything and I understand confusion is going to be associated with this dissorder but never like that. I'm never crying or losing my shit and shouting out "I'm confused."

I had been for weeks.

I didn't notice how bad it got until yesterday.

On an off chance I looked into the possible connection between St. John's Wort and the TYPES of medication it effects, not just the list of brands it effects.

Found it. It messes with antidepressants and any medication that effects serotonin levels.

Seroquil was never on any of the medication lists but I should have done my research better. I know better but the trial and error part hurts the most.

NOT TO MENTION THE FACT IT'S CALLED FUCKING SEROQUIL!!!!

I need something to call these moments. Before I use to label that person as Bloody Mary but I'm trying to find healthier ways to go about recognizing this shit as well as giving it it's own name- something that isn't associated with who I am but what is effecting me.

I have rapid cycling. I can have a depressive state a couple times a day, a couple times a week, a couple times a month, or a couple times a year. Some years I've had none but since 2010 it's happened more and more frequently.

This is the most recent suicide note I've left.

I've left one other that was almost just like this. I don't really remember. I had taken a lot of muscle relaxers, sleeping pills, pain killers, and alcohol.

It didn't work that time because I was too healthy. I ate right, worked out regularly, and got plenty of sleep so my body was able to pull through, albeit sick and sleepy for a week.

I'm glad it didn't work that time or the time I wrote this note.

I'm not a weak person. I never want to kill myself. I never even think about that possibility. The world is tough, difficult, and full of shit but I never let that get me down. I'm always fighting and doing it with a smile.

It's a direct product of the parasite.

I have a hair trigger self destruct button and I hate it.

I've lost countless friends to suicide directly related to bipolar. Most important of all I lost my grandmother to suicide. She was as bipolar as I am. Same type. Same frequency of episodes.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I don't want to be that person. I want a success story.

I have 2 daughters- my oldest (8 years old) has the disorder. She has my severe version of it.

I want a success story for my children and especially for my daughter Faye.

I have to show her that no matter what mommy's tough and she can be tougher.

Every goddamn day I fight for a better life. Every waking moment I pull myself up thinking "it could always be worse." I surround myself with awesome people, I have a lot of potential in everything I do, I love taking care of myself and my body, and I have a great family (some of it chosen, some of it blood).

I love life. I genuinely do.

When the depression hits this low it's unbearable.

It's a different level of depression when this hits.

The wreckage inside of me is overwhelming and almost instantaneous. My thoughts race, my body feels weak, and the parasite digs it's tentacles in like a corkscrew.

Racing thoughts are a huge problem with bipolar and I have then when in any bad cycle. My brain works 100x faster than most people's. Doesn't always make me smarter- just makes for almost no patience, impulsive behavior, and really bad self control. When the depression gets going my mind races incredibly fast and thinks of every challenge in my life and all the hurdles I've failed to overcome or did poorly.

It piles everything on top of me at once. A couple mile long landfill constructed and filled to the brim in a couple of moments.

The sane part of me- the person who I really am is gone. I am nowhere to be found. This level of the disorder is the only time that voice inside me isn't screaming and trying to get out. Dead silence except for every bit of frustration and pain I'm going through and have gone through. A lifetime of struggle brought to the surface in seconds. Solutions to life's problems are a long hall of open doors- violently throwing themselves shut. Options transform into dead ends.

This is not me. That person is mentally sick. That is the parasite. It wants full control or it wants me dead.

I do not get overwhelmed and give up. I am not weak.

I have a severe chemical imbalance. My mind tries to destroy itself.

I would never choose to end my life.

It's the single most horrific aspect of the disorder.

When I'm ok and sane it's terrifying when I think about it. It's the same fear as having someone set on trying to kill you. Walking down a dark alley that someone has tried to shoot you in before- and that person might still be there.

Someone is trying to kill me and I don't want to die.

I'm scared of that person and rightfully so. I'm scared because I'm not around when that person surfaces.

I cannot defend myself.

I do not want to die. I have no desire to cease living. I do not want to damage myself nor the people around me who love me. I would never think twice of doing that.

There will be another post to continue this story but for now I have to put this down.

This is incredibly difficult for me. This is the first time I've ever talked about this and strangely enough I'm telling the whole world.

I'm ashamed how much I relate to this song. I cry every time I listen to it.Confusion in her eyes that says it allShe's lost controlAnd she's clinging to the nearest passer byShe's lost controlAnd she gave away the secrets of her past,And I said I've lost control againAnd a voice that told her when and where to act,She's said I've lost control againAnd she turned around and took me by the hand and saidI've lost control againAnd how I'll never know just why or understandShe said I've lost control againAnd she screamed out kicking on her side and saidI've lost control againAnd seized up on the floor, I thought she'd dieShe said I've lost controlShe's lost control againShe's lost controlShe's lost control againShe's lost controlWell I had to phone her friend to state my caseAnd say she's lost control againAnd she showed up all the errors and mistakesand said I've lost control again
But she expressed herself in many different waysUntil she lost control againAnd walked upon the edge of no escapeAnd laughed I've lost controlShe's lost control againShe's lost controlShe's lost control againShe's lost controlShe's lost control

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About Me

This is the story of my struggle with Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder. It's my raw acceptance of having the parasite but my refusal to let it take me down. It isn't nice, it isn't pretty, and it isn't sugar coated. I'm also a road cyclist.